“My thing was wrestling. My thing was waking up at five to train. My thing was tracking everything I ate down to the crumb. My thing was nightly runs even when I was exhausted. Don’t act like I was off having fun. You know better.”
He drew his knee up on the bed, facing me fully. “I’m not fighting with you, Theo. I remember all that shit. My point stands. You weren’t around much freshman year, whether you were with Abby or training. So yeah, things changed, events occurred, don’t be surprised you weren’t kept apprised.”
My gut twisted. He knew he was not allowed to say that name. She was not to be mentioned in this house or in my presence.
I charged on. There was no way on earth I’d let Deacon know how much hearing her name still bothered me. But fuck, I was here, in this frat house, because of her. Every damn day I spent here was a reminder.
“I don’t know what you did to that girl but keep it out of the house. I don’t need to be dragged into your mire, Deac.”
He raised his chin. “You trying to tell me who I can fuck in my own house?”
“Nope. I’m telling you I don’t want to have to haul a girl off you so she doesn’t kick your ass. That’s what I’m telling you.”
He snorted a laugh. “That crazy bitch hit me with her skateboard. Shocked the shit out of me, no lie. That was the only way she got a swing in. She comes at me again, I’ll swing back. I have no qualms hitting a chick if she asks for it.”
I shook my head. “Don’t say shit like that to me.”
“Why?”
I threw my arms up. If it were up to me, I’d have nothing to do with Deacon Forrester. He’d call us friends. I wouldn’t. The more time I spent around him, the deeper my disdain grew. That was the thing, though. I was stuck with him, at least until I graduated. Our fathers were friends, and as much as it pained me, my father held a good deal of control over my life. I’d pissed him off enough last year. Rocking the boat wasn’t an option right now.
“Why? Why shouldn’t you talk about hitting women in front of me?”
He laughed. “Not women. A specific crazy bitch who hit me first. What, am I supposed to stand there and take it?”
“No. You’re supposed to not do shit that makes a woman whack you with her skateboard.” I slapped the jamb, done with this conversation. “I gotta go get a workout in.”
Deacon nodded, relaxing back into the pillows at his headboard. “Family dinner at the T tonight. You need to show.”
He didn’t mean either of our blood families. This was a frat dinner, unofficial, of course, since I wasn’t an actual member. It’d just be some of the guys in Deac’s inner circle, like Daniel. Some of them were decent, some weren’t. Like Daniel. The decent ones had me considering. Not spending the entire night locked in my room had me agreeing.
“All right. I’ll be there.”
“Close the door on your way out.”
I gladly slammed it shut.
* * *
The T was a diner in the heart of Savage River that had been there since the dawn of time. It was silver on the outside, sprawling and stuffed full of locals and university students on the inside. Our group took up two tables. Twelve guys got loud until they were fed. Our waitress brought our food out fast.
“So, Theo, what’s it like not prepping for a wrestling season?” Daniel was sitting across from me at the end of the booth.
I nodded to the burger I was about to take a bite out of. “It’s not bad.” Then I dug in, savoring every single fucking bite.
“You miss it?” The guy beside Daniel, Rohan, was one of the decent ones. When he asked questions, he was genuinely curious. Daniel…well, he always had an angle.
I swallowed and wiped my mouth. “In some ways. I’m still adjusting to the life of a noncollegiate athlete, to be honest.”
Daniel chuckled. “Are you getting soft?”
“Worried about my physique, Danny?” I bounced back. Rohan laughed. Daniel didn’t. He wasn’t much for humor.
“Just looking out for my pal, Theo.” His eyes narrowed on me. I didn’t let him bother me.
I’d known Daniel and Deacon since I moved from Las Vegas my senior year of high school to live with my dad in Malibu, California. I was shoved on them just as they were shoved on me, told we’d be friends—the “or else” heavily implied. Daniel had never liked me. I’d never liked him. Neither of us hid it back then, and nothing had changed now.
Taking another big bite of my burger, I leaned back in my seat and patted my stomach. I wasn’t getting soft, only because working out and doing it hard had been ingrained in my mind since I’d started wrestling in middle school. Dropping the sport didn’t mean I’d dropped the habit. I did eat now, though. Fuck, did I eat.
“I’m all good,” I said. “All good.”
A flash of red and then long, dark hair caught the corner of my eye. I turned in time to see the little tiger herself push through the diner exit into the night.
Helen. What a sweet name for a girl who seemed anything but. I wondered what her parents had been thinking naming her that. Maybe it was wishful thinking, name her a grandma name and she’ll grow up to wear floral dresses and bake cookies.
Based on the two times I’d encountered her, I’d say they were disappointed if soft and sweet had been their goal.
Daniel kept talking, trying to dig at me, but I was through listening. I tossed the last of my burger on my plate and slid out of the booth.
“Left my phone in the car. I’ll be back.” I strode through the diner and into the parking lot. It was busy with people coming and going. Helen was nowhere in sight. I’d missed her, but if I had caught her, I wouldn’t know what to do with her.
She’d probably claw my eyes out. Tiger. I chuckled to myself and headed toward my car. The brand-new BMW i8 my stepmom passed onto me over the summer when she decided she wanted something “more chic.” Driving it made me feel like a conspicuous asshole, but I needed wheels, so I dealt.
And when Deacon asked to do the driving, I always let him, allowing him to be the conspicuous asshole, which he didn’t mind. Plus, he gave a shit about keeping the car pristine, always parking on the far edge of lots so it didn’t get dented, washing it down after a drive—the kind of things I should’ve been doing.
He’d parked in the very corner of the lot, far, far away from the lights and other cars. As I approached, I heard the telltale sign of glass breaking. Through the shadows, I spotted a figure standing on the hood, swinging something down on the windshield.
A skateboard.
My feet stopped moving, stupefied at the sight of Helen, on top of my car, her long hair flowing behind her in the breeze, looking like an angel of vengeance. She swung her skateboard high, bringing it down on the windshield with a crash.
It was so crazy, such a ridiculously glorious scene, I barked a loud laugh.
She whirled, eyes wide, but not panicked. Our gazes locked, and that got me moving toward her. Why, I didn’t know yet. The second I moved, she did too, running to the edge of the hood. She was a step away from jumping off when I lunged, hooking my arms around her before she could escape.